


Merci

by Luna_Sin_Sin



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale, underswap
Genre: Adult Frisk, Any pairing or type of story could pop up on here, CherryBlossom, F/M, Female Frisk, Fontcest, Frans - Freeform, HoneyKetchup, M/M, Multi, Now with the so called "stoner bros", Sanscest - Freeform, Slight Dub/Con, kustard - Freeform, slice of life falling in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-11-06 22:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11045727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Sin_Sin/pseuds/Luna_Sin_Sin
Summary: My Merci Series is a thank you to the people who have supported me! These are all gift fics for someone, so any pairing requested could pop up here from frans, to sansby, to foncest, to honeymustard! This is the series that I'm branching out my writing skills on for some amazing supportive people.1. Some sweet Kustard. Some insecurities just need to be embraced and loved.2 & 3. Sans and Frisk have their first date. It all goes wrong, in the best ways.4. Underfell Sans wasn't expecting to have Undertale Papyrus discover him as he's hiding away and nursing his recent injuries; but it looks like Papyrus might have an injury of his own that he's dealing with. One good healin' deserves another.5. Undertale Sans and Underswap Papyrus have chemistry. If only they could figure out what sort of chemistry that is, and faster. It would definitely drive their brothers less bat-crazy.





	1. Kustard, Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silverryu25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverryu25/gifts), [wildunderbeastly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildunderbeastly/gifts), [hanamii-art](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hanamii-art).



> This story is for silverryu25 for supporting me and being just a genuinely awesome person in general! They wanted some cute Kustard where Underfell Sans is in need of comfort because of his scarred body. And I just had to write this as a thank you, and because the idea was so cute X3

 

                “You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

                He couldn’t help but grin at that, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. Sans was sucking lazily on a bottle of ketchup as he looked at his self-sustaining tornado trashcan.

                “I mean, this isn’t like the first time after all. It’s more like… ehh, a dozenth now, right?”

                In theory, yes. In theory this would be about the dozenth time he banged Sans, or that Comic took him – but theory and practice could be very different things. Considering this time around, things _were_ going to be different.

                He knew by this point he must have been boring Sans.

                _I mean, who likes doing it when someone won’t take off their coat, or only when the room is in total darkness so much so that its more of a game of handsy twister than anything?_

He clutched at his arm self-consciously, glancing down at the floor. They were both ready for this, weren’t they? Sans was already stripped down to a long white t-shirt and nothing more – calmly watching the tornado and giving him his space to make up his mind about what he wanted to do.

                And here he was, almost in the same state, but he couldn’t bare to take off his coat. He hated seeing his own bones to the point he wore his coat so much so that even _he_ didn’t have to see them. Was he really ready to take it off and show someone else…?

                He was always like this. So full of self-doubts and insecurities about his bones. They were chipped and busted, cracked and poorly mended. Disfigured. Nobody could love somebody like this.

                He didn’t want to face disgust.

                …and he especially didn’t want to face rejection.

                “I don’t know if I can do this…”

                He hated those words, and hated how he’d said them time and time again already. Those words that betrayed both of them and unleashed his insecurities and vulnerabilities.  

                Comic didn’t answer him immediately, just sucked on the bottle for a few more moments before he let the tornado have it.

                “Okay.”

                The same simple word – no sound of judgement – but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to believe it. He knew how annoying it had to be. How annoying _he_ had to be.

                “But,” started Comic, “how about we still do something different?”

                “Whadda mean?”

                The question was slow, and insecure. It wasn’t too often that Comic suggested something new – he tended to just let Red spill out ideas and outright reject most of them, consider some, and accept the few that he deemed enjoyable.

                “You don’t want me to see, right?”

                “Uh-huh…”

                Comic was stretching something he’d picked up in the living room earlier, but Red couldn’t see what it was. Not until he saw Comic raise his hands and begin tying something around his head. When he turned to face him, his eye sockets were blinded by a makeshift blindfold.

                In a complete deadpan, Red asked, “Is that my fucking sock that you picked up earlier?”

                There was even a note still attached to it – he could recognize his brother’s angry cursive scrawl on it a mile away.

                Comic has his lazy grin in full glow, and shrugged nonchalantly.

                “You like blindfolds. And this way, we can leave the light on _and_ you can take off your coat. You can get used to the feeling. We’ll keep taking it one step at a time – augh, but not _that_ way…”

                Red tried not to laugh as Comic rubbed their shin where he had smacked it into his treadmill. Stars, why was it so funny when someone got hurt?

                While he tried to make sure not to let on he was laughing, he thought about Comic’s proposal.

                _That… that might actually work._

It _would_ make him less self-conscious about taking off his coat if he knew Sans wouldn’t be looking at his scars. And Comic was right – the appeal of Sans wearing a blindfold wasn’t lost on him… But he didn’t think he could perform like this… Not how he was now. He’d still be too unused to seeing his bones on display to give Comic the focus and attention he deserved.

                But… he could still give this a try.

                Slowly, he half slipped off his coat before he froze. Why was this so hard to do? Why did doubts have to be so strong?

                “Knock knock.”

                He eyed Comic dryly.

                “Who’s there?”

                “I dunno. I can’t see anything.”

                “Pft. That was bad.”

                “Ha, you laughed… had to have been good if you laughed… ah, here you are.”

                Comic came up to him and rested his hands on his shoulders. He almost shirked him off when one of Comic’s hands rested on his shoulder without the coat’s protection, but managed to resist the impulse.

                “What do you say? Want to give it a try?”

                There was no sense of urgency in Comic’s voice, only idle curiosity. Looking into his face, Red felt that uncommon warmth in his soul show itself again and took a moment to saver it before glancing toward the bed. He led Comic toward it until his heels were against it.

                “…okay.”

                It was just a single simple word, but he knew the weight of it wasn’t lost on Comic. His doppelganger’s face changed slightly – lit up.

                “Okay?”

                “Yeah. Okay.”

                Comic’s smile twisted into a shit-eating grin.

                “ _Really_ okay? Do I need to check with your bro first to get permission? This is a big deal.”

                “I’m gonna slug you at this rate.”

                Comic laughed, and Red tried to relax into the mood he was setting. A small clank brought his eyes up to rest on the blindfold. With their foreheads together, Comic said, “…everything is going to be fine. We’ll just keep going as long as you’re comfortable.”

                “I know.”

                Hands like his – but without the light array of scars – moved to slowly pull his coat off him, and ghost down his arms to rub his hands.

                “Do you want to keep your shirt on?”

                The temptation was there to say yes – and the out Comic was giving him to say no was just as tempting. But he wanted to overcome this fear, wanted to trust someone else…

                …and if he couldn’t even trust another version of himself, who could he ever trust?

                “…no, I don’t.”

                Hands moved to help him take it off – or maybe he took it off himself or helped – he couldn’t tell – he was too busy conjuring a tongue to meet Comic’s and moving down on the bed, lying on his back. Comic followed him down, and somewhere along a trail of kisses and shifting positions and bones, both shirts were discarded somewhere.

                It wasn’t verbally decided how they were going to do this – but when Red reached up to take Comic’s soul it was unanimously decided soul sex tonight.

                It was… beautiful watching Comic’s face when he played with his soul. He’d done this enough to learn that his doppelganger liked it when a thumb brushed upward on his soul, pressed into the center, and was slightly squeezed. Comic shuddered at the feeling, taking several moments to just enjoy the repetitive motions before he moved to lay his weight on one hand while the other slowly began to slip over Red’s ribs, one by one.

                Subconsciously, Red felt his breath hitch as Comic made contact with his ribs – with his scars – and squeezed a little too hard on Sans’ soul – but Comic didn’t call him out on it, or even make a noise of displeasure. He continued to ghost over Red’s ribs, going up one side and slowly dragging his fingers down the other. Then he traced the marks, cracks, and insecurities, gently urging Red to keep going.

                Even though he’d been hyperaware of everything Comic was doing to him, it still came out as a surprised gasp when a hand slipped around his soul and began massaging it.

                “Your gorgeous just the way you are…”

                The words were so light he thought he’d imagined them.

                “Everything out of place is in perfect place on you…”

                There was warmth pouring into his soul, comfort too. It made him heady, and his face burn. Somehow, it was becoming easier to relax. He hadn’t even noticed how tense and uneasy he must have felt to Comic until then.

                He pulled Sans closer, and felt Comic reciprocate and push their souls together. The contact was momentarily blinding – two eager souls ready for more of this, more of each other. It made his bones tremble and made him dizzy, but that could have been because somewhere along the way they’d started making out and he couldn’t remember when was the last time either of them had stopped to take a breath.

                And it was so strange, because nothing was rushed or frantic – but things were… Angry wasn’t the right word, and desperate didn’t feel exactly right either… But there was a sense of desperation for closeness.

                How long had he wanted something like this? How long had he been hoping for closeness like this? How long ago… had he stopped thinking he’d ever be able to get this far with someone?

                “Too long…”

                For a moment his soul stuttered and his face flamed with embarrassment. Had he been saying his thoughts out loud, or had his soul been broadcasting the general thoughts of his feelings right now?

                “…you’ve been afraid for too long. We both have.”

                There was a rising sense of feeling in Sans’ soul – one Red could easily recognize. Comic was close, and getting even closer each moment.

                “Y-yeah… Yeah…”

                He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t think he was capable of thinking of anything else, either.

                He pushed their souls closer together to the point red and blue seemed to become purple for a moment – a beautiful purple he’d never seen before – before Sans moaned and dropped to cling to him. Feeling him orgasming was enough for Red who felt his soul shudder and pulse and joined Sans as they clung to each other and tried to remember it might be a good idea to keep breathing if they didn’t want to pass out.

                …it was a nice afterglow even after they sent their souls away. Both were tired but sated, and he moved his hand closer to Sans’, who all too happily knotted their fingers together loosely. He found himself slowly rubbing his head against the side of Comic’s, and they shifted for a few moments before it became abundantly clear Sans was too lazy to climb off Red, and Red was likewise too lazy to push him off.

                Red felt his thoughts drifting as kisses landed on his collarbone. He enjoyed these friendly and affectionate displays almost as much as sex – just receiving comforts and trading them in an unhurried manner.

                But, then suddenly, he couldn’t help but laugh as a thought popped into his mind.

                “Nhmm? What’s so funny?”

                Still laughing, it took him two tries before he could get the words out.

                “I was thinking about your brother.”

                Rising up slightly and looking at him – or more aptly looking in his general direction because he was still blindfolded – Sans asked, “What’s so funny about my bro?”

                “I can’t stop thinking about his face, or ahahahaha… What he’s going to do you when he finds out you picked up _my sock_ and not your own…”

                Sans’ mouth opened and no words came out, and Red found himself laughing even harder for several moments before Comic couldn’t help but lose it and join in.

                They laughed until both of them were breathless and giddy from laughter, and more tired than before. He found that even when Sans was stroking his chips and scars now, he found the actions more soothing than anything. Especially the calm and repetitive motions that he used as he traced them.

                …maybe someday, he’d be able to do this for real. He’d be able to show him what he looked like out from the darkness of a black room or his heavy coat… Out from the blinders of a blindfold… And he’d be ready to accept any sort of discomfort that might cross his doppelganger’s face… And he’d most importantly be ready to accept…

                …the acceptance of another.

                Someday.

 

 


	2. Frans, Dating Start: Part One!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift fic for @hanamii-art on Tumblr for making me an amazing Sona! 
> 
> Frisk and Sans go on their first official date to celebrate Frisk's eighteenth birthday, with Sans whisking her away to someplace unknown but beautiful. However things don't go quite the way they were planned, as they get unexpected invaders!

                Frisk had been to a lot of places since becoming the Ambassador to monsters all those years ago when she’d first freed everyone, and had been taken to a lot of gorgeous places by many politicions and world leaders – but this was the first time she could remember having seen such a stunning beach before.

                The sand was as white as could be, almost as white as bone – and soft and warm under her feet. And the water was the perfect temperature – nice and hot on top around her knees, and nice and cool around her ankles as she drew drawings in the sand underneath the water with her toes.

                Even the weather was gorgeous – calm breezes that blew the exotic tree leaves and brought sweet smells across the wind. Already Frisk had found multiple flowers had caught in their hair – some even appeared to have been placed there at some point – and although they didn’t know how he’d done it, they knew for a fact the layer of petals on them and surrounding them and followed them wherever they went was thanks to Sans.

                Friendly brilliantly covered fish swam up them curiously, and not for the first time, they wondered where Sans had taken them. It seemed like an open cove of some sort, and even though Frisk wasn’t too familiar with a lot of fish – they were certain they weren’t in the States anymore…

                Well, there was always Hawaii, she supposed.

                She glanced over her shoulder back at Sans, and saw he was still where she’d left him on the beach. Reclined back on the picnic cloth with the basket next to him, watching them wade through the water. He seemed to have acquired a sunhat from somewhere. He smiled lazily as their gaze landed on him.

                Seeing the look suddenly brought them back to a memory.

*

                _“Do you want to go a date with me?”_

                The question had caught them off guard, and they’d looked up from where they’d been going over some new papers about the embassy that they’d just received. The question had mostly mildly confused them as it brought them out of their thoughts, but across the room over Sans’ shoulder Frisk saw both Papyrus and Undyne’s jaw drop in surprise.

                Their mouth was slow to work, and their mind even slower.

                _“A… date? Like a date… date?”_

                They’d come a long way since they were a kid who could barely say their own name without their words choking them, but in a mere moment, their progress seemed to have vanished.

                _“Yeah… Just a you and me sort of thing.”_

                In the background, Papyrus had his hands on his cheeks, and Undyne was hurriedly texting something down on her phone – and she may have been trying to record at the same time.

                _“Oh.”_

                Oh was the only reply they could think of – or lack of thinking of, to be exact. Their mind was still whirling, wondering how they could suddenly go from thinking about getting the nice cream guy hired at the next world event since his commodities had been such a bit hit last time – to now realizing wow, they needed to say something else because Sans was just staring at them, hunched slightly with a blush rising along their cheekbones. And Papyrus was frantically waving his arms in the background and may have been slowly yelling, while Undyne seemed to have their palm over their eye.

                _“It’s cool if you can’t, or um… Don’t want to. No pressure. You should spend your birthday how you want to.”_

                If Sans sunk into his coat anymore, he was going to vanish – and not in the teleporting sort of way… Which, he might actually do, she realized, if she couldn’t get her tongue to work. But what was she supposed to say again? Without meaning to, she felt as if she were suddenly back on Mettaton’s show and looked for Alphys to suddenly give her the answer she needed.

                Alphys wasn’t around, but Papyrus had somehow formed a bone attack above their head that spelled out Y E S, and Undyne had at least twenty spears pointing to his attack. As she stared at it, Undyne added another ten for emphasis.

                _“Welp. This went much like I hadn’t wanted to imagine it… Uhhh… I’m gonna go to Grillby’s now. Pap, you want anything?”_

                _“W-wait!”_

                She seemed almost as surprised by her own shout as Sans was.

                _“I’d- I’d love to Sans! I’d… actually really like that. A date, I mean.”_

                Sans at first seemed relieved, but then bothered, and he looked off to the side.

                _“Oh… Hehe… Yeah… Dates are fun, aren’t they? I know you like them.”_

                She felt as if she had something wrong, somehow, but didn’t know what. She struggled to clarify.

                _“With you, I mean.”_

                Those words seemed to reassure him, and his smile seemed easy again.

                _“Yeah, really?”_

                _“Of course!”_

                _“…so how about I pick you up tomorrow? Y’know, around noon-thirty.”_

                She laughed softly, and nodded, clutching the papers against her chest too tightly. He rubbed the back of his head for a moment, scoffing one of his shoes before a loud **_clang_** startled them both and they turned to see Alphys had barged into the room, panting and huffing.

                _“Where? Where is my OTP moment at!? I- I- I did not run up t-ten flights of st-stairs to miss this!”_

                She then promptly collapsed forward, a camera in her hands still outstretched as she wheezed. Undyne was by her side in an instant, but Papyrus was still focused on them, apparently squealing and running in place in excitement. These events seemed to be too much for Sans, because he blushed and pulled up his hood and coughed out, _“Welp, see you tomorrow,”_ and vanished.

                Frisk was left with an inconsolable Alphys who was being comforted by Undyne, who was trying to reassure her that she’d got it all and they could watch on the office cameras too – and a Papyrus who was shouting something about how Frisk was going to be his sister?? Feeling embarrassed, Frisk turned away and tried to focus on the crumpled embassy paper in their hands and found they couldn’t stop their face from burning.

*

                “If you like what you see, you should take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

                The flirty remark surprised her, and she realized for the last few minutes they’d just been staring at him as she daydreamed and remembered embarrassing things, and since it was Sans, he’d probably been able to tell what she was remembering just by looking at her face.

                Frisk decided maybe they’d had enough time splashing around and headed for the shore, thankful they’d chosen to wear jean shorts today that they were able to roll up easily, and a blue kami with a loose and open purple plaid shirt over it. It was loose and kept them cool as they trekked across the sand.

                Sans sat up as they approached and stretched in his loud, decorated swimming shorts – again, making them wonder if they were somehow in Hawaii – and his jacket, which he’d scrunched the sleeves upward instead of rolling or folding them. He wore a loose tank with wide sides that had a picture of a Cool Pineapple on it with sunglasses that appeared to be drawn on – along with the word COOL above it. She wondered if it was Papyrus’ shirt, or a gift from the taller skeleton as she sat down on the picnic cloth.

                “You should have told me we were going to a beach. I would have brought something to swim in.”

                “Eh, you could swim in what you have on… Besides, now that I know the shortcut… I can always bring you back if you… want to come again.”

                “Yes, please. This beach is beautiful…”

                She glanced around, squinting as she took in the scenery again. There was a shuffling noise, and Frisk felt something placed on their head as they saw petals and a flower fall from their head. Reaching up, they saw Sans had placed the sunhat on their head.

                He winked as he said, “I know your eyes are sensitive. Thought I better come prepared, hat you needed it.”

                They laughed and folded their legs under them.

                “That one was a stretch, Sans.”

                “A stretch sounds like a good idea to me,” and he loudly proceeded to pop his back.

                Shaking her head, she reached for the basket and began to pull things out. She’d gotten some nerves this morning and since Toriel woke her up late – and with a prank at that – she hadn’t been able to eat breakfast. As she pulled out fruit like watermelon pieces, tangerines, and apple slices along with hotcats and chips – and a glorious butts pie – she could feel her stomach start to growl.

                “Where are we, anyway?”

                “Some place you haven’t been before.”

                “Well, I know that!”       

                She huffed and stuck a slice of apple in her mouth, savoring its sweet taste. It seemed like Mom had sprinkled some sugar onto them for extra flavor.

                Sans lazily started putting ketchup on a hotcat with a grin, drawing what almost seemed like a formula or some sort before smearing it all away when a loud burst of ketchup sprung free.

                “I’ll tell you if you guess it.”

                “Hawaii.”

                “Heh, close in terms to it being a paradise. And an island.”

                She frowned thoughtfully, munching away on another slice of apple.

                “So, how’s it feel?”

                “Hm?”

                “It’s not every day you get to turn eighteen. You’re officially considered an adult now, by law. Do you feel… responsible yet?”

                He said ‘responsible’ the same way someone might say ‘they have a cold,’ if that person’s worst fear was germs. She almost snorted at the conspirator look on his face.

                “I’m always responsible!”

                “I know, and I feel tired to see all that responsibility. Between you and Paps, all I see are good Samaritans.”

                “Oh, woe, the horror.”

                Sans flashed her a grin and then winked, “Heh, you know I’m kidding. I’m real proud of you kiddo.”

                The nickname was as warm and as affectionate as always. She opened her mouth to tell him she was proud of him too – he’d come so far since he’d first started living on the surface and she wanted to tell the bag on bones he’d been doing an amazing job – but a sharp and sudden sting on her ankle caused her to jolt and yelp.  

                She skittered away on the blanket and glanced back to see an angry crab had pinched her, and now waved a claw at her like an old man yelling at kids to get off his yard. Sans, once he realized what the problem was, chuckled and took a bite out of his hotcat. The crab skittered along the cloth and over Sans’ leg toward the discarded apple piece Frisk had dropped. It brought its bounty back to Sans’ leg and stayed there.

                “Well, looks like he wanted a _pinch_ of your crapple.”

                She crawled back along the cloth on her hands and knees, eyeing the crustacean with wary interest.

                 “Why doesn’t it pinch you?”

                “It must be shrimpartial.”

                It must have been, because it didn’t seem to mind when Sans _flicked_ it, but the moment Frisk tried to touch it the crab tried to pinch her again.

                San’s voice seemed layered in amusement as he said, “Waterever you do now, don’t look toward the shore or you’re going to sea something shellifying.”

                She glanced over her shoulder as she laughed, “How many ocean puns did you read before you took me here?”

                “All of them.”

                “Really?”

                “I shore did.”

                She snorted, but saw he hadn’t been lying. At least twelve crabs were coming up the beach toward them, claws raised. She moved away as they scuttled along the beach towel and before she had the foresight to move the food – the little crustaceans seized their picnic for themselves.

                “Hey, that was for us!”

                They apparently didn’t like being scolded because a small majority of the crabs left the food behind and began to crawl her way, snapping their claws angrily.

                “Whoah, hey?”

                She sent him a look and he only shrugged at it.

                “What, I didn’t make them angry.”

                He literally sat where he was and watched, bemusement becoming more and more genuine as the crabs actually gave chase after Frisk as she kept back-pedaling away from them. When she had to hop away on one leg several moments later, she wondered if he might start crying from how hard he was laughing when he saw one clinging to her sandal.

                “Ah, wait, I’m not your enemy! Sans, a little help please?”

                Gently petting the crab eating Tori’s pie, Sans eyed the crabs as he said, “I dunno, Frisk… They seemed to have accepted me as one of their own. I don’t wanna betray their trust now.”

                Frisk leapt over one, and had to quickly move up to her toes to prevent another from pinching her ankle again. It felt more like a game of hopscotch than anything – but boy, the crabs were determined to get her!

                “Sans! They’re ruining my shellebration!”

                He snorted.

                “Fine, no need to be so _crabby_.”

                His eye turned blue and with a flick of his wrist, he picked the crabs up and brought them back to the ocean. Frisk sighed in relief.

                “I failed in my ambassador duties to make peace with the crabs.”

                “Eh, it seemed like they were more interested in a hostile takeover from the beginning rather than negotiations. Ah, they’re coming back.”

                Frisk eyed the crabs uneasily as they began the trek back up to the picnic. Or by their angry noises and chipping pinchers – back up toward her.

                “I wasn’t even the one who moved you guys!”

                Sans stood up with a chuckle, but there seemed to be an underlying sadness in his words

                “Well, I think we both know when the battle is lost. I guess we’ll have to leave.”

                She felt a tug at her heart-strings. She didn’t want the date to be over with – they’d barely been here longer than an hour and half, and hadn’t even gotten a chance to eat yet.

                Her expression must have conveyed her feelings because his look softened.

                “Hey, the date… doesn’t have to be over with if you don’t want it to be.”

                His tone even sounded hopeful.

                “Let’s just… finish this somewhere else. Y’know, once I get sand out of my unspeakable places… I’d love to keep the date going.”

                It sounded a lot like a promise, and from someone she knew hated making promises, she knew he was sincere. Frisk grinned as she reached down and put the containers back in the picnic basket, and folded the blanket up.

                “So would I.”

                His hand was waiting for her as she stood up and smiled at him. His cheekbones were her favorite color of blue again – even better than the ocean water beside them.

                “Okay, let’s continue this somewhere else.”

                His hand squeezed hers, and with a wink and a pop, they left the white shores of the beach behind toward their next dating destination.

 

 


	3. Frans, Dating Start: Part Two!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Sans continue their date, but life is awkward and things don't seem to go the right way from the beginning - but that won't stop them from making the best of it! (And oh god, the puns between these two precious characters!! TwT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the absolute superb drawing angel Hanamii<3
> 
> This was delayed later than what I wanted it to be because of how hectic things have been lately, but that just gave me a lot of time to plan this date out! There was a lot of cute scenes and interactions I had playing in my mind, so I hope you love them! <3

 

                To say that Mama Toriel found the entire thing funny was an understatement. She started with giggles, and from there she had to cover her mouth to suppress telling snorts. Then small chuckles that became something not so small – to outright bold incurable laughter when Frisk opened the basket to take out the last of the items and a battle-ready crab jumped out, foaming in anger. It scuttled back and forth along the kitchen table irritably, snipping at everyone who came near.

                Toriel couldn’t seem to form words, because she couldn’t seem to face the sight of Frisk and Sans trying to coax the crab back into the basket without erupting into even more laughter. And Sans wasn’t actually much help – he just held the basket and snirked as the crab refused to go back inside and instead decided to charge at Frisk when they got too close.

                “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS LOUD EXHALING!?”

                “Uh, watch out bro, we got a skitter on the loose.”

                “SKITTER!? AH, A SNAPPING FIEND!”

                “With a snappish temper.”

                “NYEH!”

                Frisk low-key high fived Sans when Papyrus shook his head.

                “THERE IS ENOUGH MADNESS IN THIS KITCHEN WITHOUT YOUR JAPES, BROTHER!”

                Papyrus stared down at the crab, still clutching the knife he’d brought with him from the kitchen. In a fluid hand motion – that Frisk vividly remember not being so smooth previous times and resulting in one bad owchie when she’d been too close – caught the knife by its blade, and proceeded to approach the crustacean with the hilt of the knife, so not to harm it.

                “REALLY, HUMAN-FRISK, AS THE AMBASSADOR OF MONSTERS THIS SHOULD BE PUT A SIMPLE TASK FOR YOU!”

                Frisk saluted them for their authoritative manner, which they seemed to be pleased with.

                “NOW YOU SEE, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS GENTLY – BUT FIRMLY! – POKE THE CRAB BACK TOWARD THE BASKET SO THAT THEY’LL GO INSI… AH… URM…. A. A. A. A. A. A.”

                “Whatcha doin’, bro?”

                “SCREAMING VERY SLOWLY, AS TO NOT MAKE SUDDEN MOVEMENTS OR SOUNDS.”

                Sans tch’d softly.

                “Isss that because the crab just disarmed you?”

                “AND IS NOW WIELDING MY KNIFE MENACINGLY, YES. WITH VERY MURDERY INTENT, IN FACT.”

                Sweat was collected and dripping off Papyrus’ skull. Sans eyed the knife-wielding psycho nonchalantly. Frisk wondered if they should take the basket from Sans and use it to cover the crab, but worried about leaving the crab with the newly-acquired knife. It sounded like Toriel was taking pictures of the event. Or recording, or something. She was shaking from snorting, so it was hard to tell what quality of anything would be recognizable to view later.

                Frisk decided they should diffuse the situation, and picked up one of Toriel’s wooden spoons to engage the crustacean in combat with. It gave them extra reach.

                “I’m rooting for you, kiddo.”

                Thus, began an epic battle where many lives and souls were lost – as Papyrus told it. But by later video evidence, Frisk just sparred with the crab – aiming at the blade - until it released the knife from its clutches and clung to the spoon instead. Holding the dangling crab up, Frisk displayed it with pride.

                “My hero,” gushed Sans – who seemed to be finishing off a hotcat that had survived the crab invasion, having sat down sometime during the duel.

                Frisk’s stomach growled enviously at the sight, but they focused on dangling the crab over the basket until it finally let go. Sans casually closed the basket and picked it up. Their face must have shown their unhappiness, because Sans blinked and then laughed.

                “Don’t worry, I’m taking him back to where he belongs… Then me and you can _crab_ a bite to eat.”

                He winked, and then was gone.

                Papyrus picked up the returned knife with a sigh of relief, before turning to Frisk and beaming.

                “IT APPEARS YOU ARE HUNGRY! NO WORRIES – I’VE JUST LEARNED OF A NEW RECIPE AND I’LL BE DELIGHTED TO COOK FOR YOU, HUMAN!”

                “Papyrus,” Toriel’s gentler and much calmer voice called, “you mustn’t.”

                “NYEH? WHY NOT?”

                “This is Sans’ and Frisk’ important date day. They both want to do everything themselves. Isn’t that correct, my child?”

                Frisk beamed, noddingly happily. Toriel moved to give them a firm hug, which Frisk gladly excepted. Goatmom smelt like butterscotch and cinnamon, and of some new herbs she and Papyrus must have been experimenting with in the kitchen. Toriel’s quick thinking and the nice and warming smell filled Frisk with determination.

                “But,” came Toriel’s chiding turn, “Sans only gets you until 7:30 tonight! Then the rest of us get you for your birthday!”

                Frisk beamed at the reminder.

                Sans flashed back into the kitchen – free of crab clingers – and set the basket down. Toriel looked at Papyrus and said, “It’s time for us to be off now. We don’t want to interrupt!”

                “OF COURSE! THIS DATE, MUST BE, PERFECT! WELL, AS PERFECT AS IT CAN BE WITHOUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS AROUND THAT IS!” He laughed and followed Toriel to the door – monsters without their goodbyes – but Frisk heard him ask, “ER, WHERE EXACTLY ARE WE OFF TOO, THOUGH?” before the door closed behind them.

                Frisk’s stomach growled at their departure.

                “Me, too, Frisk, me too.”

                Sans slung an arm over their shoulders and lead them into the kitchen.

                “It looks like cooking supper is up to us, now. But I think we’ll make a pretty good team.”

                Frisk couldn’t help but send them a wry grin.

                “Team? You’re actually going to have us cook instead of taking us to Grillby’s?”

                Another wink.

                “Nah, Grillby’s is a classy place. That’s at _least_ date number dos material. We’re not _quite_ ready for that level of commitment yet.”

                Sagely, even though they wanted to laugh, they nodded.

                “But of course. Whatever was I thinking. So, Sans, what… _are_ we making?”

                 Sans glanced around, looking at the assembled items before he said, “Well, spaghetti is considered a romantic food… I guess? And all the stuff is here.”

                “Spaghetti it is.”

                Frisk couldn’t help but wonder, if somewhere, Papyrus could sense his products were being handled – and admittedly fumbled – by both of them.

                “I’ll boil the water, heh. You break the noodles up. Let’s do something original.”

                Frisk scoffed at what he meant by “original,” but couldn’t help but giggle as they watched Sans heft the pot to the sink to fill it with water, before leaving it to fill and going to turn the stove on. Frisk focused on the box before them, sliding the noodles out and carefully grabbing a handful before holding onto the noodles, ready to break them in half…

                The silence must have reigned for too long, because Sans glanced back over at them. Eyeridge raised.

                “Something the matter kiddo?’

                “Uh, no.”

                “You sure?”

                “Mm-hm.”

                He cocked his head to the side, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

                _Oh no, he knows._

                “Frisk.”

                “Yes?”

                “Petting the spaghetti isn’t going to break it.”

                Frisk felt their face warm and flush.

                “Habit!”

                He laughed as they still refused to break the noodles, and walked over to place his hands over theirs.

                “You’re such an odd human, Frisk. All in good ways, I mean.”

                They were inclined to agree. Sans pressed their hands down over Frisk’s and the noodles broke cleanly. Smiling, they both set them aside and again another stack of noodles. Frisk couldn’t help but focus on the feeling of Sans’ hands on theirs. Sans had such nice hands – from their white color, to their shape and density. Without much thought, Frisk found themselves saying, “You have great bones.”

                Sans’ hands suddenly squeezed theirs sharply, and the noodles exploded all over the place this time. Bits and fragments of pasta noodles got stuck in Frisk’s hair, and they watched as a piece flicked into one of Sans’ eye sockets.

                “Urk, that’s a hell of an eye lash.”

                They let go to shake their head, and Frisk watched as they blushed hard. The blue tint of their bones was painted across their body – much brighter than normal, especially along Sans’ cheekbones. They wondered if it was the piece of noodle, or something they said.

                “Let me help!”

                Frisk reached out to gently help search for the wayward pasta fragment, soft nimble hands cupping and feeling Sans’ skull and neck in the search.

                “Ah, whoah, c-careful where you’re grabbing.”

                Frisk didn’t know why, but she felt like her heart was beating faster for some reason when Sans glanced at them with one eye squinted shut. They looked… Well, Frisk thought it best to not describe it – just the thoughts were making her blush.

                “Oh, found it!”

                She gracefully pulled the piece out from a groove in Sans’ bones and flicked it away. Sans stood upright again, and gently whacked the side of his skull.

                “Heh, that was certainly wasn’t how I planned on using my noodle. I’m glad we’re _pasta_ that now.”

                Frisk giggled as she couldn’t help but chide, “Your _impastable_ , Sans.”

                Sans rose to the challenge immediately as he picked up the scattered noodles and headed toward the stove.

                “What’s your _risoni-ng_ for that?”

                “Easy. You fill me with _fiori_ every time I hear you pun!”

                “What, you mean all those romantic puns I serenaded you with were _al forno-thing_?”

                Narrowing their (admittedly) already squinty eyes, Frisk said, “ _Anelli_ pull out all of my soft _angel hair_ when you jape!”

                San’s grin rose higher, hearing the two pun zinger she’d thrown at him. He dropped the noodles over the stove as he narrowed his eyes back at her.

                “ _Bigoli_ , Frisk, then I’ll have to stop. I’m a better man now! Truly, I’m _a bavette_ all now, I promise I’m not _pasta_ the part of no return!”  

                “What? Sans, give up his puns!? You’re definitely an _impasta!_ ”

                Somewhere, Papyrus weeped.

                They stared at each other for several seconds, glowering, before someone snickered – Frisk didn’t know if it was her or Sans – and suddenly, they were both laughing hard, clutching their sides.

                “ _Sans!_ All of those were horrible!”

                “That’s what makes them so funny!”

                She couldn’t stop her giggles, any more than he could stop his.

                 It wasn’t until a shrill noise – that they both slowly, very slowly – realized wasn’t coming from either of them caught their attention. Frisk glanced over Sans’ shoulder and realized her comedian boyfriend had dropped the noodles directly onto the stovetop – absent was the pot of water. They were now burning and smoking like crazy – and a few small pieces were on fire. 

                She lunged forward just as Sans did, both of them colliding because Sans lunged the opposite way, trying to reach around her for something.

                “W-wait, Frisk – don’t hug me now-”

                “S-Sans, move, the stove top-”

                They awkwardly fumbled around each other for a second before Frisk felt a slickness coat her sock covered heels and looked back to see that the pot that had been left in the sink to fill up was overflowing now, and water was gushing over the sink top into the floor.

                Sans tried to push her back from the water and cabinet to reach forward to turn the tap off. Frisk turned the stove off before stumbling back. She turned and reached past him to open one of the cabinets and pull out the fire extinguisher and as she readied it, Sans bumped into her and she fumbled the nozzle.

                White foam exploded out the front, caking the stovetop and momentarily drowning out the smoke detector going off, and another clumsy step from Sans caused him to slip.

                _Sans – 1 HP – MOVE._

                White hot fear filled Frisk as she imagined Sans slamming into the tiled floor, and with reflexes trained into her from multiple lessons from people like Undyne – she moved and darted to catch Sans as they both slipped and fell with a cry of, “ _Be careful!_ ”

                There was a sharp pain on her chest as Sans landed on her with a grunt, the fire extinguisher digging rather painfully into her side. She kept her eyes closed at first, afraid Sans was likely going to clunk his head against her forehead – but was startled into opening them when a mouth pressed against hers instead as Sans tried to catch himself at the last moment.

                Both of them were startled, staring at each other for what seemed like a frozen moment in time before Sans managed to scramble his arms into position to lift off her.

                “Uhhhh-”

                Frisk could see _he_ was blushing, but wondered if his cheekbones burnt as much as hers did. They felt like they were on fire. She placed her finger tips against her lips.

                Sans didn’t seem to know if he should apologize or say something flirty, and in the end, copped out with a stuttered pun.

                “W-well, your lips are c-certainly very soft! It-it’s a good thing you always keep _balm_ and carry on…!?”

                He gave an anxious laugh, before Frisk couldn’t take it anymore and lost their poker face in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. They hadn’t meant to tease him so badly – but she hadn’t been able to resist once she saw his expression. Even covering her mouth couldn’t hide the happy excited noises she was making.

                At once, Sans’ expression became one of immense relief, and he rubbed the back of his skull. Respite was such a charming expression on his face – but embarrassment fit him nicely, too, she thought.

                With a few slick uneasy movements here and there, they managed to both get back to their feet, clutching at each other’s arms and the table top.

                Looking at the mayhem around them, Frisk slowly said, “I’ll grab the towels…”

                She reached under the sink and threw a thicker towel down on the floor – so happy that monsters kept bathroom towels under the kitchen sink – and patted it with her foot to help it soak up water. When she glanced back at Sans, he was smiling again, albeit crookedly as he glanced her way.

                “I forgot.”

                “Forgot what?”

                He clicked his tongue – how did he do such things? She wondered if she’d ever know – as he sighed, “That me and you can’t make pancakes together. I don’t know what we were thinking trying to cook something.”

                War flashbacks of such events as The Great Breakfast Debacle of 09 briefly surfaced and caused her to shudder lightly. That had probably been the last time she and Sans had tried cooking together – with good reason mind you – and she couldn’t help but smirk and wince at the memory all at once.

                “We were too distracted to remember.”

                “I can’t imagine what was so distracting.”

                There was a teasing glint in his eyes that Frisk returned in a mocking manner.

                “Welp, I guess we’ll have to make the only thing that we know we _can_ make.”

                Sans moved toward the cupboard – and with a little jump to give him enough height to reach the item he was after that had Frisk smothering a giggle into her hand – he pulled out a box of cereal, and turned to shake it enticingly.

                “We got this, unless you want Grillby’s?”

                Somehow, eating cereal with Sans sounded exactly like what Frisk expected their date to be like. And their date living up to her image brightened her day. But she couldn’t help but want to tease him a little more.

                “It has to be cereal,” she claimed, as she got the milk and bowls out, “Grillby’s is _second date_ material, remember?”

                He flushed at that, much more than she was expecting him too. Was he more nervous that she’d calculated?

As he pours the cereal, she listens as he quietly asks, “Uh, so that means, you might be interested in a second date then?”

                There’s something almost frightened in his voice underneath his hopeful tone, but before Frisk can say anything Sans quickly goes on.

                “I mean, it hasn’t gone the way I planned it too, not at all… And we’ve been making a mess of things – or at least I have I mean, and uhh, why isn’t this as easy as saying really bad puns…?”

                Frisk realized that although she liked making him flush, she didn’t like seeming him so out of sorts in this matter. She was filled with determination to settle his soul, and so without thought, reached over to kiss him on the cheekbone. Then, picking up her cereal bowl, she turned and headed for the living room to sit in front of the TV – wishing her face didn’t burn so brightly.

                Things were quiet from the kitchen for several moments as she sat on the couch, mindlessly eating away at the crunchy chocolatey cereal before Sans suddenly sputtered, “W-wait, was that a yes? That was a yeah, right?”

                At the sound of his feet carrying him to the living room, with the spoon still in her mouth and her cheeks still rosy, Frisk giggled.

 

 


	4. Cherryblossom: Some Healin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red planned on escaping to the Tale universe to heal up by himself for awhile before heading back home. He hadn't been expecting to crash land on Blossom, all-too-ready to lend him some healin' assistance. 
> 
> slight dub/con warning; slight, I promise <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @wildunderbeastly who is ammaaazzziiiinnnnggggg and a completely kind person!!! <3 You wanted some Cherryblossom, and so I hope I delivered everything you wanted and more!
> 
> (Seriously, it wasn't supposed to be this long but these two apparently had a lot of chemistry in their dialogue, and who am I to take away a plot bunny when it hops my way??????)
> 
> (As you know, I also threw in some of my headcanons, so enjoy <3)

 

                It was painful putting any pressure on his left ankle – the dizzying sort of pressure you experience when you’ve sustained a serious injury. Red leaned almost entirely into the machine as he hopped universes, sucking on his mustard bottle despite feeling sick to his bones from nausea.

                He arrived in Tale’s universe even more disoriented than before, but refused to stay locked up in the pocket that was the universe hopper. It was too cramped – too confining. _Claustrophobic_ , was the word.

                When he finally got enough of his bearings to see straight again, he clutched at his aching rib and moved toward the basement stairs. Each upward step made him dizzy and grind his teeth in pain, but he took each creak of bone and stair with a labored breath.

                He was in such a haze from the pain it took him an entire three seconds to realize he’d made it to the top of the stairs, and another four before he managed to get the door open – and another six, before he could finally step outside.

                Snowdin was as cold as always, but he actually enjoyed resting his ankle for a moment in it. But only a moment – even if this world’s Snowdin wasn’t as dangerous as his, it was ingrained in him to not be out in the open when he was injured. But as thick and hard as the snow had been to travel through in his world, he didn’t want to have to trek any further than he had to.

                Thankfully, he had a shortcut.

                Thinking ahead – unlike how he had when he’d teleported into the basement earlier to universe hop and almost twist his fractured ankle off – this time he shifted in the teleport to land on the Tale’s couch. He could comfortably find a place to land, and prop his foot up for a few hours. He was sure good old ‘Comic would be sleeping at his sentry post and Blossom – his once mocking but now sincere nickname for this world’s Papyrus – would be making his rounds.

                He could drink his mustard, sleep to recover, and be gone and back to his world before anyone even knew he’d visited here.

                Or at least – that was a plan.

                He hadn’t expected to crash into a body of bones or hear a loud startled, “NYHOO-HOO-HOO!?!?”

                “Wh-what the shit!?”

                He scrambled to roll off the couch, but arms encircled him quickly enough to stop him. If he hadn’t of recognized the voice or the arms holding him, his nerves would have made him summon his Gaster Blasters from the fright he’d received.

                Papyrus quickly sat up from the couch with him, clutching at him like one would a teddy-bear.

                “R-RED-SANS? IS THAT YOU?? OH MY GOD?? YOU ALMOST FRIGHTENED THE GREAT PAPYRUS!?”

                Nervous, he chuckled, “Heh, uh, woops?”

                He shrugged out of Papyrus’ arms to turn and face him, blinking to see Papyrus not in his fabled ‘battle body.’ Instead he wore a white tee that fit him well, and a pair of old grey joggers that hung off his hips in a way Red both admired and envied slightly.

                “I DID NOT KNOW WE WERE HAVING GUESTS TODAY! _OH_ _BOY._ ”

                Uncharacteristically, Papyrus didn’t sound exactly happy about the news.

                Getting over his slight stupor seeing Papyrus out of his “armor,” Red glanced around and noticed the puzzle book that must have been dropped onto the floor when he’d landed on Papyrus, and the TV playing a low-volumed rerun of Mettaton on air.

                Papyrus’ face seemed to flush with color, and all at once during these observations Red realized Blossom looked a lot like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

                Suddenly, his achy rib and smarting ankle were all forgotten as a shit-eating grin stretched across his face.

                “Oh. My. God. The Great Papyrus is… He’s… He’s taking a break! He’s boondoggling!”

                “I- I AM NOT!!!!???? LIES AND SLANDER!??? OFFENSE!??? TAKEN????”

                He clutched at his gut as loud laughter sputtered from him.

                “Oh- oh where’s my phone, I have to take a picture of this – _no one will believe me!_ ”

“HOW ABOUT NO??? THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS _NOT_ SLACKING OFF! HE NEVER HAS, AND NEVER WILL!”

                “Oh yeah, Blossom? Then what _were_ you doing, hmm?”

                As always, he flushed and flailed at the nickname.

                “IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! THERE IS NO BLOSSOM HERE!? AND I WAS WORKING HARD AT MY PUZZLES – AND ONLY BECAUSE I CANNOT MAKE MY ROUNDS TODAY. THAT IS ALL - HRK!?”

                The small noise of pain caused Red to immediately stop laughing, as it hadn’t come from him.

                “W-whoa, are you okay there Blossom?”

                Papyrus nyeh’d unhappily at the nickname as he rubbed at his collarbone.

                “THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS FINE!”

                “You don’t sound find. What happened? Did someone _hurt_ you?”

                He’d help Comic scatter the dust if someone did something so stupid.

                 “ENOUGH!”

                The loud exclaim had Red leaning away from where he’d at some point latched onto Papyrus’ shirt, but he didn’t let go.

                “IT WAS A TRAINING ACCIDENT WITH UNDYNE! I HAVE BEEN HEALED AND AM ONLY STILL SORE! UNDYNE AND SANS HAVE MADE A BIG ENOUGH FUSS ABOUT THE WHOLE THING ALREADY! SUCH AS CONFINING ME TO THE HOUSE AND FROM MY DUTIES??”

                Red relaxed at that.

                “Heh, got hurt by the fishy lady, huh?”

                He couldn’t remember how many times his Papyrus had come home layered with injuries from “sparring and training” with the fish lady in his world. How many broken bones he’d mended because of it, and late nights he’d stayed up repressing the urge to stick a bone dagger in the fish woman’s soul. Only the knowledge that Papyrus actually _liked_ their Undyne had been enough to stay him each time.

                It seemed like it would stay him again this time, too.

                “IT WAS MY FAULT! I SHOULD HAVE MOVED TO MY OTHER LEFT LIKE SHE HAD SUGGESTED!”

                Somehow, that told Red all he needed to know about the accident. He sighed and leaned back, only to wince and let out a grunt of pain of his own as he banged his ankle against the couch.

“RED-SANS?”

                Papyrus suddenly moved to brace and feel him, and before he could get his wits back quick enough Papyrus saw the damage to his ankle.

                He got ready for a loud gasp or sudden spew of worried remarks he’d have to hurry up and brush off, but when he glanced at Papyrus he only saw his expression as one of stunned regard before the royal guard in training shook off his stupor – remarkably quick, at that.

                “IT SEEMS I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH AN OWWIE. THOUGH, YOURS IS DEFINITELY NOT HEALED IN THE SLIGHTEST. DID YOU COME HERE FOR HELP?”

                He grimaced at that.

                Papyrus frowned at him, expression now dropping to worry as he asked, “IS MY FAVORITE GRUMPY ME INVOLVED?”

                Red didn’t know what it was about good old Blossom, but it was hard if not impossible to lie to him when it involved his brother.

                “Yeah, he’s involved. But,” he quickly interjected at Papyrus’ concerned face, “he’s fine, he’s fine. He was indirectly involved. I just… ‘heard some monsters talkin’ smack about my bro, plannin’ an ambush on him. Decided I didn’t like that very much. Things escalated – got taken off guard at the end.”

                Maybe he couldn’t lie to Blossom because this Papyrus genuinely seemed to care about his bro, and maybe it was because despite them appearing as such opposites that they actually got along quite well.

                “HE DIDN’T COME WITH YOU?”

                He figured Blossom already knew the answer, but decided to indulge him.

                “Nah, I didn’t want him to know. You know how he is.”

                Boss always did have a bad temper, and there weren’t that many rabbit monsters left in Snowdin – especially now; be a shame to lose the last few.

                “I SEE.”

                He hated the guilt-tripping expression Papyrus was wearing, even though it wasn’t aimed at him.

                “Look, I don’t want my bro to worry, ‘kay? I’m fine. I’ll be fine. And I’ll go home good as new. Y’know he’ll just think I went off somewhere to sleep for a while. I’m a notorious lazybones, after all.”

                “THAT YOU ARE, RED-SANS. BUT, IT IS THE DUTY OF ALL PAPYRUS TO LOOK AFTER THEIR LAZY BROTHERS. SINCE YOU DON’T WANT GRUMPY ME TO KNOW, AND SINCE I KNOW, I WILL JUST HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO HEAL YOU.”

                “ _What_.”

                “WORRY NOT, DEAR SANS DUPLICANT, FOR YOU ARE IN THE HANDS OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NOW, THRUST YOUR SOUL INTO MY CARE!”

                “what.”

                Red smacked one of the many sparkles levitating around Papyrus’ head away as he looked at him with a deadpan.

                “Yeah, no, Blossom. I’m good. Already had some good mustard. If I take a nap and wake up, I’ll feel loads better.”

                “NONESENSE! LET ME HEAL YOU IMMEDIATELY!”

                “How about no??”

                “HOW ABOUT YES???”

                Flustered and confused, he didn’t push Papyrus’ hand away in time when it touched his rib and he winced in pain and doubled over.

                “RED-SANS!?”

                Hands felt him over and moved his jacket apart, and lifted up his sweater to the darkly bruised bones underneath. Papyrus let out a noise of dismay at the sight.

                Red felt certain in his mind that if any other monster had tried to lift his shirt up like Papyrus had – his bro excluded – he would have sent them flying across the room. As it was, he tempered the reflex not only because he genuinely didn’t want to hurt Blossom – but also because he knew what ‘Comic was like when his brother was involved.

                “THIS ISN’T ANY GOOD AT ALL, AND MUST BE TAKEN CARE OF AT ONCE!”

                “Blossom...”

                He was exasperated with Papyrus, but didn’t know of any good method to stop him. Like his own bro, when he was determined to do something – little ever stopped them from achieving their goals. At least Papyrus didn’t suddenly reach in and take his soul into his hands.

                “RED, MAY I?”

                _Really, did he have to look so earnest?_

“Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

                “YES. I LEARNED FROM UNDYNE.”

                In a way, he knew that was meant to be reassuring. With a long-suffering sigh, he finally conceded.

                Although he’d expected Papyrus to be gentle with his soul once he got his hands on it, he had really only expected Papyrus to keep it encased with his hands – not to actually touch it or press his thumbs into it. He flinched at the contact. It definitely didn’t hurt – but he was completely aware of the sensation nevertheless.

                “YOU ARE IN GOOD HANDS, RED-SANS. YOU SHALL BE WELL HEALED AND CARED FOR.”

                “Heh, that’s good.”

                And he wasn’t wrong – almost at once waves of warmth and comfort, and kind reassurances washed through him like gentle waves across his bones. He even leaned back into the couch.

                It brought up nostalgia in him too – memories of his brother trying something just like this when he was younger, also having learned it – somehow – from their Undyne. It filled him with further warmth, his brother’s triumphant smile even though he’d been squeezing a little too hard the whole time.

                Of course, Red never told him that.

                His ankle was already feeling better, and he could move and twist it gently with only slight pangs of pain here and there. It was good enough to walk on, but Blossom persisted.

                More warmth seemed to ebb into and out from his bones, with his soul warming like a heater. There was flashes here and there of not quite memories, but imprints of something just like what he’d been remembering – but instead it was Comic and Blossom. Blossom was healing Sans from what looked like a scraped knee – Comic beaming down at him for his effort.

                Love, love, love made him tremble and his breath hitched. He didn’t know if it was just him, or Blossom, or a combination thanks to him and Blossom sharing magic right now, but it caused both of them to flinch slightly. More pressure was added to his soul – hitting just the right – but wrongly timed and placed – spot that just made him…

                _…thrum._

He could tell the exact moment Blossom felt it rebound to him, because he froze up slightly and his face heated up a flushed orange. It was a darker color than Honey’s – both Swap’s had lighter color magic than the Tale’s – and Red wasn’t sure why it had taken him this long to realize just how great a color Blossom had.

                “O-OH.”

                It should have bothered him that these feelings were being perceived by Blossom, but it didn’t. Without thinking of his actions, he moved to push Papyrus back down on the couch and tugged his white tee up to reach underneath. He kept his hand just away from Blossom’s soul, able to see it glowing a little brighter through the white shirt.

                “Can I?”

                “WH-WHAT?”

                “One good healin’ deserves another.”

                He couldn’t lie – this whole situation, despite being so sudden, was quite the turn on. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been intentionally suppressing thoughts about touching this Papyrus from the moment Blossom had asked to touch his soul.

                “I… DON’T THINK I AM IN NEED OF HEALING??”

                “We’re all in need of some healin’.”

                He pressed Papyrus’ hands into his soul since they were still up against that spot – and enjoyed the flush of triggered warmth that rushed through him and then Blossom.

                “W-WOWIE!”

                Blossom seemed a little dazed by the experience, shaking his head slightly.

                “Can I?”

                He was more impatient this time, and finally Blossom nodded, still appearing baffled slightly.

                Man, did it feel great to press his hand against it.

                “Don’t worry, me and you are going to have a _good time_ , Blossom.”

                The endearment seemed to make both of their souls pulse, and Papyrus shivered at the feeling.

                “Feels good, right? Keep pressing there.”

                Puzzled, but obedient, Papyrus did – squinting and squirming at the feeling, but not faltering. Red grinned and looked at the soul in his grip. He had a sneaky suspicion he knew _exactly_ how to make Papyrus happy.

                He focused his thoughts on how Papyrus was such a good healer, a great caretaker, an amazing brother, and extraordinary royal guard in training, and a master chef. He focused these thoughts over and over again, squeezing the soul at each new thought.

                He seemed to have gotten a perfect bullseye, and he could have told that even if he hadn’t been holding Papyrus’ now dripping soul in his hand. Blossom was shaking, head pushed back and emitting a soft, sweet noise.

                “ _WOWIE!_ ”

                Two wowies, one being really enthusiastic and in only a few minutes? Red enjoyed the aftershocks of praise, and his own.

                It hardly took more sweet words with how much they both were already so stirred up. And yet somehow, during it all, Papyrus’ squeezed the soul without ever missing a beat even as he squirmed underneath and shifted to move so he was loosely embracing Red with his soul just behind him.

                The moment of truth hit, and Red wondered briefly if he blacked out with how tightly Blossom pressed into his soul – which only made the aftershocks so much worse – better – for both of them. Shaking, trembling, and speechless, it wasn’t until Blossom was forced to release his soul that Red let go of his.

                By Asgore, he didn’t know what did it for him more – seeing the always energetic Papyrus look dazed, his once clean white shirt now splattered with traces of his magic, or the flashing soul happily fluttering underneath in his ribcage.

                “Now that, that was some good healin’, Blossom.”

                Maybe it was the confused way Papyrus exceptionally flushed at the nickname.

                He moved to sit back at the couch, resting a hand over his chest to calm his racing soul. Although he couldn’t claim to not have done that sort of thing before, he definitely could say he was surprised on how hard he’d gotten off on it…

                But he’d better return home unless he risked the chance of a third party turning up. He moved to reach over and gently cup Blossom’s perplexed face.

                “I’m feeling a hundred-and-ten percent after that, Blossom. So I gotta be heading home now.”

                Sweet innocent Papyrus sat up – surprisingly well, at that – and looked at him in a searching way before smiling.

                “I’M FEELING BETTER MYSELF, RED!”

                He blinked, thinking that might have been the first time Papyrus hadn’t called him Red-Sans.

                “AND YOUR BROTHER IS PROBABLY GETTING WORRIED ABOUT YOU. DON’T STOP ANYWHERE UNTIL YOU LET HIM KNOW YOU’RE OKAY!”

                And just like that, normality was restored. Red was wondering if he was going to get away with this scotch free.

                “Heh, I’ll think about it.”

                As he was getting up – relieved to see his ankle felt fine, as did his ribs – he couldn’t help but glance back at Papyrus. Something inside him begged for some torture, to force Blossom to pull some more cute faces before he left, and he was a slave to his whims.

                Cockily, he grinned, “After all, I need to tell my bro about how I caught you lazing around. He’ll be _devastated_ at his ‘one good counterpart.’”

                “YOU WILL TELL HIM NO SUCH THING!”

                “Oh yeah, and why not?”

                “BECAUSE I’LL TELL SANS YOU TOUCHED MY SOUL.”

                All at once his cocky grin slipped away.

                “Uh, what? Are… Is… Are you… _blackmailing_ me?”

                Standing superior, Papyrus put his hands on his tantalizing hip-bones, before giving him a thumbs-up.

                “I AM!?!?!?” Then, even happier, “I AM!”

                “Where’d you’d learn something like that??”

                “YOUR BROTHER!”

                Red didn’t know if he should laugh or cry, and settled on an incredulous middle-ground as he turned and left. Welp, it looked like it would be just their little secret now…

                But, he didn’t mind.

                Kept secrets were the best kind.

                Because just maybe, they could be kept…

                More than once.


	5. Honey & Ketchup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honey has it bad, he can't hide it as well as he thinks he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For wildunderbeastly on AOO, thanks for supporting me and I hope you enjoy and love it to bits <3
> 
> It was actually fun writing these two, and I tried to write in a new style because they inspired me too. A sort of time skip, as their relationship slowly begins to progress into something concrete <3
> 
> Enjoy some HoneyKetchup!
> 
> (Not sure why, but Glad You Came was a song that heavily inspired this fic, so feel free to listen to that as you read :3)

 

**_ SANS. _ **

 

                It starts off slow, with like all things, their first meeting. It was no surprise his own brother made instant friends with the other Sans – just by listening to them speak for a few minutes he believed he understood why this universe was called Underswap. This version of himself was definitely cool, just like his bro.

                “Heya.”

                It’s his brother’s voice – but different. Deeper, more relaxed, and it draws his attention away from the other two and he turns and glances up at this Papyrus in the orange hoodie.

                “I’m Papyrus. Papyrus the skeleton.”

                It feels like a quip, a joke, and Sans feels his smile relax as he turns and extends his hand.

                “sans. sans the skeleton.”

                They make a slightly surprised expression, cigarette – no, candy stick – twitchingly slightly as they extend their hand to his. His whoopee cushion goes off at the same time Hoodie Papyrus’ toy buzzer goes off, and both of them are equally caught off guard – staring at each other in genuine surprise.

                But then, the absurdity hits them both and they’re laughing. Which, to Sans, is a definite surprise. He’s used to making the jokes, making the puns, and listening to the laugher – rarely ever being made to laugh on his own. But it feels… Good. Really good to laugh. In fact, he really likes to remember what it feels like to laugh like this.

                “SANS!”

                “PAPYRUS!”

                Their brothers scolding hollers only make them laugh harder, and Sans glances back at the other Papyrus and sees how relaxed he is. Not the relaxed he’d perceived earlier – but with his guard let down, relaxed and shaking shoulders. Hoodie Papyrus glances down at him, and he’s not sure why, but it makes him laugh a little longer.

 

…..

 

                It’s really the second time that they meet that they decide to call each other by nicknames. The other Sans and his Papyrus are both exasperated by how much he and Hoodie Papyrus have been trolling them lately.

There’s really only one problem. Well, it’s not even a problem. It’s just that Papyrus is the Magnificent Papyrus, and Sans is the Sansational Sans, and both are really attached to their name and identify with them a lot. So, it’s no surprise considering how much they love their cool bros that both of them offer to change their names. Except, heh, apparently both of them are too lazy to make one up by themselves, so they let their bros decide.

                It’s… actually really humorous listening to them try to pick out names.

                Blue Sans offers, “SHORTY AND… TALLY? NO, NO, THAT DOESN’T WORK… A SANS SHOULDN’T BE CALLED SHORTY, AND TALLY… IT DOESN’T HAVE THE RIGHT RING TO IT EITHER??”

                Papyrus offers, “HOW ABOUT… HONEY & KETCHUP? NYEHEHE, THAT WOULD BE FUNNY!”

                Both their brothers seem to find that suggestion hilarious.

                Hoodie Papyrus jumps on it.

                “Honey, eh? I like it. How sweet and endearing. I’ll be your Honey, Sans.”

                He turns and faces him when he says that, not his bro. Sans isn’t sure why – it’s a joke, Hoodie Papyrus is laughing even now, snickering really – but Sans feels his cheekbones burn. He’s not used to being caught off guard. He turns slightly away, raising his condiment to his mouth as he prepares to take a sip.

                “heh. first you have to ketch-up to my level.”

                His brother and counterpart are likewise outraged at the pun, but Sans – heh, now Ketchup he guesses – glances toward Honey to see his reaction.

                He thinks, for a moment… he sees a flush of orange across Honey’s cheeks before he pulls his hood up over his head with a nervous laugh.

                “That’s funny. Wellz, I’m tired. Time for a nap.”

                He moves over to the couch in the living room and seems to be out the moment he lays down. Sans wasn’t sure why, but he’s surprised. He was expecting a… punning contest. That’s what he thought basically ‘another version’ of himself would have down.

                He takes a sip, distracted, when he catches the eyes of the other Sans. He’s looking at him with an expression that he can only say is… indescribable. It makes him feel awkward. He almost turns away, wondering what he’d done exactly to get such an unwavering stare, before Blue Sans’ eyes finally move over to Honey, placing a hand on his hip as he quietly judges something to himself.

                He’s not sure what bothered him about the look – it wasn’t threatening in the slightest… but more like Sans was looking at him like he was another sock in the house that he hadn’t noticed lying around until now.

                Papyrus distracts him from his thoughts by waving a figure in front of his face and scolding him.

                “SEE WHAT YOUR HORRIBLE PUNS HAVE DONE? THEY’VE CREATED A COUCH COCOON!!”

                Sans tries to not think about the weird look for the rest of the night, and mostly succeeds.

 

…..

 

**_ ***HONEY. _ **

 

                It’s probably the fourth time they meet before Honey really starts engaging Ketchup in actual pun wars – which of course, drives both of their brothers up the walls. And too be completely fair – to defend against what happened next… Well, once he started, he really didn’t want to stop.

                It isn’t until the next night though, when they’re still going at it, _really going at it,_ that Papyrus apparently decides he can’t handle another spaghetti pun or taco joke and bodily leaps through a window. In counter, his brother yells and picks him up and hurls him out a window – chair and all.

                It’s not like it hurt or anything – Sans made sure the chair went through the window first and there is an exceptional amount of fluffy snowy waiting outside for him. He’s even still partly in the chair.

                “NOW, COOL OFF PAPPY!”

                Honey thinks Sans knows that was a pun, but decides to only shrug in response until his bro leaves from the broken window with a pout.

                The pout makes him feel bad, but only for a little while. The snow seems to be absorbing him, guilt and all.

                …it’s pretty comfortable, in fact.

                He’s considering taking a nap right here in the snow, when he feels someone leaning out from the window. He thinks it’s his bro again before he sees its Ketchup, idly tapping his fingers against the busted window frame.

                “…whoops.”

                Honey feels that sentiment in the very marrow of his bones.

                To be honest… Honey knows this was mostly his fault. He’d really been hammering out puns day and day out – to the point he thinks he was genuinely taking the fun out of them. He’d bet he was even bothering Ketchup with them – that’s how far he’d been stressing them out, one after another.

                Ketchup hadn’t seemed too bothered, but every once in a while he’d catch Ketchup giving him a confused look – as if he wasn’t really sure what Honey was attempting to do.

                …that makes two of them.

                A soft _plop_ draws his attention, and he sees that Ketchup had teleported and was now laying in the snow beside him. They lay in comfortable silence for a while before Ketchup breaks it with a gentle inquiry.

                “…so.”

                It’s not even a real question, but it’s definitely questioning…

                “…what’s going on in that skull of yours?”

                He doesn’t know what’s going on, and that’s the truth.

                He’s hyperaware of how close they are to each other, he’s extremely observant of how Ketchup’s arms are crossed over his chest, he’s focusing on each puff of breath Ketchup takes even though none of them need to breathe – he’s observing how Ketchup looks like he’s drifting off – and how he looks _exactly like his brother at some moments –_ and how he can’t find a single similarity in them the rest of the time.

                “I don’t know.”

                He doesn’t know what’s going on, and that’s the problem.

 

…..

 

                Honey’s honestly not expecting Papyrus to be the one to answer the door when he’s visiting a month later; it’s not like this is the first time they’ve met since the Window Façade – this is more like the third time since then. But, well, Ketchup had asked him to come over to kill time. So he did.

                It wasn’t like he had a reason not come.

                But when Papyrus leads him inside, and into the kitchen, he wonders if that’s not exactly true. Because despite having invited him inside, and despite having told him Ketchup would be back in only a few minutes – Papyrus keeps looking back at him in that way that Sans has been looking at him a lot lately.

                It bothers him.

                It really does.

                Honey almost pulls out a cigarette, even though he knows that’ll frustrate Papyrus further.

                He almost even almost talks himself into teleporting away before Papyrus gives up on small talk with him and turns to face him, crossing his arms.

                _Oh sugar honey ice tea;_ Papyrus somehow channels that exact sense of foreboding scolding his bro does.

                “YOU’RE TAKING MY BROTHER OUT ON A DATE.”

                Honey freezes, baffled, and tries to open his mouth but Papyrus has already turned away from again to focus on his version of cooking. He’s chopping things… quite vigorously.

                “THAT’S WHAT EDGY ME SAID TO TELL YOU.”

                Wellz, that’s definitely not what he’d been expecting to hear. The idea that Papyrus and that Fell guy talk about him and Ketchup makes him feel more than a little awkward.

                “YOUR BROTHER SAYS MY BROTHER SHOULD ASK YOU OUT.”

                Well, that’s DEFINITELY something he wasn’t expecting to hear.

                He’s trying to unsuccessfully sink into his hoodie, and is one more fragile word away from teleporting out and heading back to his universe to hide from this conversation when Papyrus speaks again, with a sigh. His chopping slows.

                “…BUT I THINK THAT… YOU SHOULDN’T ASK MY BROTHER OUT.”

                Despite how harshly Honey had been denying his feelings since this conversation began, Papyrus’ words cut him deeply.

                “I’M NOT SURE YOU WILL BE GOOD FOR MY BROTHER.”

                _That’s it, I’m out_ – that’s all he can think as he readies to teleport.

                “…I’M NOT SURE MY BROTHER WILL BE GOOD FOR YOU, EITHER, OTHER ME… BUT,”

                But pauses him.

                “…YOU MAKE HIM HAPPY WHEN YOU AREN’T BEING VERY WEIRD. AND I LIKE SEEING MY DEAR BROTHER HAPPY. AND WHEN SANS DOESN’T BECOME RECLUSIVE, HE TALKS A LOT WITH YOU – MORE THAN I SEE HIM TALK NORMALLY. A LOT OF IT IS ANNOYING PUNS, BUT HE ACTUALLY PROMPTS CONVERSATIONS WITH YOU… THAT’S REALLY RARE FOR HIM. MAYBE… YOU CAN MAKE HIM HAPPY IN A DIFFERENT WAY THAN I CAN. MAYBE HE CAN MAKE YOU HAPPY IN A DIFFERENT WAY THAN YOUR BROTHER CAN. BECAUSE YOU ARE BOTH A LIKE, BUT VERY DIFFERENT AS WELL. MAYBE… YOU WILL BE GOOD FOR EACH OTHER IF… YOU JUST TRY.”

                He’s not really sure what to say, what he can say – has he really been so… obvious? That even Papyrus and Sans noticed – and he has a lot of conflicting emotions going on inside him that he’s going to need time to untangle – but the conversation abruptly ends when Ketchup suddenly appears in the kitchen.

                “SANS, WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TELEPORTING INDOORS??”

                “oops.”

                Papyrus goes on a tirade, and not once makes any mention of their previous conversation the rest of the evening. Honey tries to stay for as long as he can, to hide his unease, but within two hours he’s tapping out and starts for the door. But he pauses when he notices Papyrus standing outside his bedroom door, staring down at him, before frowning and going into his room where he’d mostly stayed this evening.

                Honey’s not sure why, but when it’s just him and Ketchup again, he feels like he is filled with… something. A sense of purpose, maybe.

                Even so, he doesn’t know why he just blurts it out, though. Maybe as a joke, maybe just to get reaction, or maybe because he’s literally been considering it for over a week now… Before Papyrus even confronted him about it.

                He’s not expecting a serious answer, truthfully.

                But more so than anything, he wasn’t expecting… a blasé yes.

                “…really?”

                “yup.”

                “…you’re agreeing to a date?”

                He doesn’t know why he stresses that, but he thinks Ketchup needs to hear it. They both do.

                Ketchup pauses at the words, but then nods.

                “but only if we do it in my universe.”

                He wonders if it’s because Ketchup likes Grillby’s more than Muffet’s, but that doesn’t seem to be it because he immediately says, “At Mettaton’s Resort. Next time you come to my universe, we’ll go.”

                Ketchup turns away from him and that seems to be… that.

                Honey wonders if he’s made a mistake.

                It feels like he has.

 

…..

 

                If this is what mistakes feel like then… he can live with that, he thinks. Because, although the first ten minutes are difficult, with Ketchup asking him invasive and personal questions… and he himself is only half answering them with forced puns…

                Somehow, and he’s not exactly sure at what moment it happened – things seem to… relax. Ketchup actually starts letting down his guard, and Honey manages to stop pushing out puns. He starts dropping them only when he feels they’re appropriate, or when Ketchup gives him an opening for one.

                …and somewhere along the way, probably half an hour into the date… it genuinely starts feeling like a date. The corny jokes become flirtatious ones, the alcohol starts to settle into their bones, and although they both don’t make any tries to really touch each other, as they’re leaving they keep bumping into each other and both of them are unsteady.

                They end up having to hold each other up – which, well, it’s a sight, that’s for sure.

                Maybe it’s because they are both too drunk to teleport, or too drunk to call their brothers – not that they would have, even if their brothers hadn’t been in Underswap – but somewhere along the way they get a room at the hotel – one room.

                They’re really too drunk to try anything but sit around laughing with each other about how tacky the room is, sobering up little by little, but well…

                Before long they’re on the bed, and things are seriously getting into dangerous territory now, and he thinks maybe, maybe they should hold off. Because although this feels really good, _oh man does it feel good,_ he feels like they should probably wait – but then again, Ketchup doesn’t seem to mind dragging him from one kiss to the next. Honey begins to think maybe he’s not thinking about this right at all.

                After all, as Ketchup tugs and pulls off his hoodie, Honey seriously begins to doubt he’s the one in control.

 

…..

 

**_ ***KETCHUP. _ **

 

                The morning after hadn’t actually been like he’d been expecting. He’d known morning after’s to be awkward afterwards with people being too affectionate, or not affectionate enough…

                But waking up to slight moaning was a new experience. Honey seemed to still be asleep, but clearly he was having a really good dream. He listened and watched for a while, not wanting to rouse him out of a good dream, before Honey moved closer to him.

                Maybe it was because he’d been listening to him moan for the last five minutes, but Ketchup felt himself slowly moving closer and shifting their bodies so that he was lying under him. A few pushes and nudges, and Honey was waking up.

                “…wha? Huh?”

                When he took in his surroundings, Honey’s eyes widened in surprise.

                “welp, good morning to you too. I wondered when you _wood_ wake up.”

                Honey swallowed, and then given the situation, he barked out an absolutely rib-tickling laugh.

                Ketchup laughed with him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am @luna-sin-sin on Tumblr, and run a nsfw blog where I post my writing from inspiration I get from Undertale artwork. *Please* don't follow me if you're a minor. 
> 
> Love what I do? Wanna support me make more fanfiction? I now have a Ko-fi page if you'd like to be my patron and donate! And as thanks, I'd be more than happy to write you a fanfiction of your OTP or favorite characters interacting as a thank you, and put it in my Merci series as a gift fic to you! Unlike my other works, any Undertale (AU's too) pairing can be requested if you buy me a coffee, and I'll write you a fic as a thank you for your kind and generous support <3
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/lunasi


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